Appreciation
by Strawberry Shortcake123
Summary: There are many things Tony can appreciate about Ziva, and her little black dress is not least among them. Oneshot based on promo for 10x14, Canary.


**Short little oneshot based on the promo for this Tuesday's episode. Unlikely? Yes. Entertaining? Hopefully.**

"Look at you." Tony whistles as Ziva saunters into the bullpen. "Dressed to catch a terrorist, huh?"

She narrows her eyes, but he can see the corner of her mouth twitching. He sits back in his chair and takes in her outfit: high heels, wonderfully short black dress, red leather jacket.

He'd sure as hell let her arrest him.

"Stop staring," she orders, and he does… until she comes around the side of his desk and plants her butt on top of it. She stretches her legs out, leaving her bare thigh no more than a foot away from him. He longs to touch it, like he did in the elevator last May, but that was an unusual situation with an unusual set of circumstances. If he tried that now, she'd shoot him. And, on that note… "Hey, do you have your gun?"

Ziva smirks. "Yes."

He can't help it: his gaze rakes over her again. "_Where_?"

She raises her eyebrows. Doesn't answer. Which, of course, means he has to put his imagination to good use.

A moment later, she punches him on the arm. "Get your mind out of the gutter."

Tony grins.

0000000000

"Ziva, sit _still_."

"You are overreacting."

"There's blood all over your face. This is not overreacting. Now shut up and stop moving."

She sighs loudly, but does as he asks. He grabs a fresh paper towel and wets it before going to work on one of the cuts. Ziva hisses. "Sorry," he mutters. "Hold on."

She is sitting on the counter in the women's bathroom, still wearing the dress and heels. The jacket has been discarded beside her. Their undercover op was successful in that they got the suspect and hauled him in for Gibbs to interrogate, but it took a minor scuffle between the guy and Ziva. She delivered the punch that knocked him out only after he had gotten a few good hits in himself. The sight of her, bloodied and bruised, made Tony nervous. For about half an hour now, she's been annoyed with him, saying that she doesn't need to be fussed over. He told her that he likes saving the damsel in distress- probably not a wise choice on his part, which he determined when she threatened to castrate him.

As he takes her chin in his hand and gently turns her head, she inhales sharply. He's not sure whether it's in response to pain or his touch, but he is suddenly very aware of how close they are. His leg brushes against hers. Her breath fans over his hand. The neckline of her dress, while not plunging, is too low for his comfort.

"Maybe we should get some antiseptic," Tony says. "So it doesn't get infected."

"It's _fine_," she snaps. "Just clean off the blood."

He dabs at a gash by the corner of her lip. And then, suddenly, as if they are simultaneously realizing what position they're in, all movement ceases. They stare at each other. Tony swallows hard and hopes it's not audible.

At long last, Ziva reaches up to grasp his hand and pull it down, and the moment is over. She tilts her head to the side, wrinkles her nose. "You smell like that dumpster."

Guilt surges through him as he recalls how slowly he emerged from his hiding place. It wasn't quick enough to help her; the fight was all of fifteen seconds, and by the time he maneuvered around the filth surrounding him, the suspect had already done a number on Ziva. There was nothing for Tony to do except watch her take him down. And, yes, she'll be okay. Ducky determined that she lacks even a concussion. But that doesn't change the fact that his partner has dried blood in four different spots on her face, or the fact that her left eye is swollen. It's _not_ okay that this happened to her while he doesn't have one scratch.

Ziva squeezes his fingers. He pulls them away. "What's wrong?" she asks, nudging him with her knee.

"Nothing." Tony taps the side of her leg and returns his attention to her injuries. She doesn't stop him. When he's finished, he announces, "Done."

He starts to step away from the sink then, but she grabs his elbows and holds him in front of her. Tony stands submissively. "Don't beat yourself up." She cups his cheek, and he allows it. "This is not a big deal."

"I know."

"And it is not your fault."

He groans. "Ziva, drop it."

"You are a good partner."

Before he can process her words, her arm creeps around his neck, and she leans forward until their faces are close again. And he thinks… he thinks that she's going to hug him, like she did before leaving for Israel a few weeks ago. He thinks she might even kiss his cheek, something she's done once, only once, right after they returned from Somalia. He sure as hell doesn't expect her to slowly, tentatively, cover his mouth with hers. Reflex sends his hands flying to her waist, and he closes his eyes, lets the softness of her lips become his entire universe.

She initiated the kiss, and it is she who draws away first. Rubbing his back, she puts her head on his shoulder. Tony buries his face in her hair and inhales deeply. He is glad, so very glad, to be embracing this woman. And he is even more glad- _relieved_, really- that they've done something honest. He has come out from behind his hero complex and she stopped using her black eye as a shield, and they have finally, _finally_ appreciated what's been right in front of them this whole time.

With a bit too much enthusiasm, Tony pulls her close, and she has to brace herself against the sink to keep herself from flying off the counter. He looks at her as she laughs. Careful not to irritate her raw skin, he sweeps a wayward strand of hair out of her face.

She's beautiful.

And it has nothing to do with that dress.


End file.
